


Lose Myself In Yesterday

by GotTheSilver



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Porn with Feelings, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: “You don’t remember?“No, I—” Steve’s brow furrows as he stares at her before glancing at his surroundings.  “You look different,” he says.  “This room is—what’s going on?”Biting her lip, Diana looks around her apartment before looking back at Steve.  “You died,” she says matter of factly, because there’s no other way she can possibly say it, can’t coat the truth in any way, not when faced with him staring at her.  “A hundred years ago.”





	Lose Myself In Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samalander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/gifts).



> hope you enjoy your gift, happy yuletide!

“Diana?”

There’s no part of her that ever thought she’d hear that voice again outside of her dreams. And she has had them, has had nights of believing he was back with her before waking up with a weight on her heart that couldn’t be lifted by anyone’s strength, not even hers.

But he’s here, looking the same as he did when he walked away and got on that plane. It should be impossible, it’s been decades since that day and he hasn’t aged at all that she can see, is even clad in the same clothes he was wearing the last time she saw him.

“Steve?” Diana’s voice is shakier than she wants it to be as the name falls from her mouth. “You—you’re here.”

“Where else am I meant to be?”

“You don’t remember?

“No, I—” Steve’s brow furrows as he stares at her before glancing at his surroundings. “You look different,” he says, squinting at her. “This room is—what’s going on?”

Biting her lip, Diana looks around her apartment before looking back at Steve. “You died,” she says matter of factly, because there’s no other way she can possibly say it, can’t coat the truth in any way, not when faced with him staring at her. “A hundred years ago.”

Steve blinks and slowly sinks into an armchair. “Huh. Guess that explains all of this,” he says, absently waving a hand around. “I really died?”

“You’re being remarkably calm about this,” Diana says, twisting her fingers together to stop herself from reaching out and touching him like she wants to, to prove to herself that he’s real. “I would’ve expected more of a reaction.”

“Still sinking in, I think,” Steve says, eyes flitting down to her hands before looking back at her face. “Diana, can you—” he cuts himself off and rubs his hands together. “Can I touch you?”

The pleading note in Steve's voice, combined with the vulnerable look on his face, makes Diana’s head flood with memories from the first and last night they had together; how his hands had shaken as he’d brushed her hair back from her face, the look of disbelief on his face when she let him kiss her. Diana crouches down in front of him and reaches out slowly, part of her wondering if he’ll vanish if she touches him, if this is all some kind of trick by an unknown foe, but his skin is warm underneath her fingers and she sucks in a breath at it, cupping Steve’s cheek as he closes his eyes.

“You’re real,” she whispers. “I wasn’t sure if—but you’re real.” Diana grazes her fingertips across Steve’s lips and swallows around the sudden lump in her throat as he presses a ghost of a kiss against them.

“I’m real,” he says as her fingers fall away. “At least, I think I am.” A sheepish smile crosses his face. “I hope I am.”

“You are,” Diana says firmly. “I need you to be.”

A slow smile crosses Steve’s face and Diana can feel her heart speeding up at the familiar curve of his mouth that she’s spent so many years missing, the crinkle of his eyes that she never thought she’d see again outside of her memories. Diana returns the smile, laughing when he does, and it’s like she’s been sent back in time. Before she can overthink it, she leans forward from where she’s still crouched on the floor and presses her mouth to his, instinctively closing her eyes at the familiarity of it all.

“Wow,” Steve says when they part, a slightly dazed look on his face. “You really did miss me.”

Diana nods, not quite able to find the words. Her fingers press into the firmness of his thighs and she looks up at him, at the way his mouth is parted, lips slightly reddened, and she’s struck by a sudden, visceral flash of how much she wants him. Startled by the thought, she stands up quickly, almost tripping over her own feet. “You, uh, I have a shower.”

“Okay,” Steve says, obvious confusion crossing his face at the sudden change in subject. He looks down at himself and shrugs. “I guess I need one. I want to get out of these clothes as well, if you—”

“I’ll get you some,” Diana interrupts. “I don’t have anything here, but I can go out.”

“You don’t—”

“You need clothes, Steve,” Diana says with a smile. “My clothes wouldn’t suit you.” Steve’s loud laugh is bright, if rusty from disuse, and once again Diana wonders where exactly he’s been for all these years; if this is a gift she shouldn’t look at too hard, if it’s going to backfire on her in some way. “Come,” she says. “I’ll show you how to use the shower.”

*

When Diana comes back to the apartment, bags of clothes in her hands, the shower is still running and she smiles to herself, remembering how much Steve had enjoyed the pools on Themyscira. Making her way into the bedroom, Diana unpacks the clothes and lays them out on the bed before heading to the bathroom. Knocking lightly on the door, she waits for Steve’s muffled response before pulling the door open, the steam hitting her in the face. “I have clothes for you,” she says, trying not to look at the outline of his body through the frosted glass of the shower door.

“Sorry, what?” Steve asks, opening the shower door and looking at Diana, blinking the water out of his eyes. His hair is slicked back, water running down his body, and Diana bites her lip, forcing herself not to look any lower than his chest. “Diana?”

“There are clothes on the bed for you.”

“Oh. Have I really been in here that long?”

There’s almost an innocence in his voice, and it makes a slight smile appear on Diana’s face. “It’s fine,” she says. “Really.”

Steve runs a hand over his wet hair and makes a face. “I should get out,” he says, turning around and switching the water off. “Do you have a towel?”

“Oh, yes,” Diana says, opening a cabinet below the sink and taking one out, holding it out to him as he steps out of the shower. His fingers brush against hers as he takes it, eyes bright as he wraps it around his waist.

“Well. This is familiar,” he says, corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

“Yes,” Diana breathes out as she meets his eyes. “Very familiar.”

“Can I still get away with saying I’m above average?” Steve teases as he tightens the towel.

Diana tracks the droplets of water running down Steve’s chest, watches them fall into the edge of the towel before looking back up; there’s a flush on Steve’s skin, and Diana doesn’t know if it’s from the shower or this moment, but she’s captivated by it. “I think you can,” she says, her fingers twitching with the need to touch him. “I certainly haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary.”

“I can live with that.” Steve’s tongue swipes over his lips and he flexes his hand before he reaches up, fingers lightly tugging at a lock of her hair before they brush over her cheek.

Diana closes her eyes at the touch, hardly believing—still—that Steve is here; his hand curls around the back of her neck to draw her in, and she goes willingly, sinking into the kiss when it comes. She’s _missed_ this, missed him, for so many years, that everything feels less than real. Diana’s hand finds a grip on Steve’s body, still wet from the shower, and she tries not to hold on to him too hard. She’s spent the decades since he died learning how to control her strength, but she can feel how close she is to losing control just by being this near to him again.

Steve’s skin is warm, inviting, and Diana presses her body against his, heedless of the water seeping through her clothing. His touches are tentative, like they were that night, as if he’s too scared to take what’s his, what has always been his even through these intervening years. Diana slips her finger tips underneath the towel, smiling into the kiss when Steve startles. “What?” she asks, their lips brushing together.

“Nothing, I just—” Steve breaks off and shakes his head. “I didn’t expect this. I never thought that—even if I had lived—”

“I still have your watch,” Diana says, the words slipping out before she realises what she’s saying.

“ _Diana_ ,” Steve breathes out, his eyes searching hers, and she’s not sure what he’s looking for. “You should’ve—I wanted you to have a life. To read the papers, have breakfast, live the way you deserved to live.”

“I have a life,” Diana protests, taking a step back from him, cold rushing over her skin as she wraps her arms around herself. “But I lost you. We _all_ lost you.”

“I’m sorry. I am, I didn’t want to die, but.” Steve pauses, looking down. “Did the war end after?" he asks. "Did you save the world from Ares?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was worth it,” Steve says, looking up, his jaw set in a way Diana has seen on men before. It doesn’t look any better on the face of the man she loves. “Clothes?”

“In the bedroom,” she says tightly. “I’ll make some tea. Come out when you’re ready.”

*

Diana takes her time with the tea, using the ritual to calm herself. There’s a part of her that wants to barge into the bedroom and slam her fists against Steve’s chest, scream at him for having left her so many years ago, but she doesn’t. Diana thought she’d worked through this, nights spent drinking with Etta in the years after Steve’s death, both of them cursing him to the stars, Etta telling stories of the time she’d spent working for him, Diana listening, and both of them throwing back whiskey until Etta started to get the urge to punch someone. She thought—she thought she had made her peace, said her goodbyes, but this has thrown her equilibrium off and she’s feeling completely off balance.

“Why?” she mutters under her breath as she pours water over the tea leaves, filling the teapot Sameer brought her sometime in the 50s that she’s never been able to let go of. “Why has he been brought back?”

“I wish I knew,” comes Steve’s voice from behind her suddenly. “Diana, all I remember is that I was saying goodbye to you, telling you I loved you, and then—then I was here. You can use your lasso if you don’t believe me.”

Diana doesn’t turn around, putting the kettle back and resting her hands on the kitchen counter. “I believe you.”

“But?”

“But I’ve seen too much since you’ve been gone to believe there won’t be consequences for this.”

There’s a moment, and then Steve’s hand is covering hers, his body pressed up against her from behind, and Diana can’t resist sinking back against him. “I really am sorry,” he says quietly. “There wasn’t another way.”

“I know.”

“What happened to everyone?”

“They lived good lives.” Diana feels the heavy sigh that Steve lets out, she turns her hand so their fingers are linked and squeezes his hand. “I can tell you about it if you’d like.”

“Later,” he says, thumb stroking over the skin of her hand. “They were happy?”

“I think so.”

Steve’s quiet, and Diana can’t tell how long they stand there, the warmth of his body pressed up against her, the gentle grip of his hand around hers; she can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he takes, and after not having this for so long, Diana thinks she could stay like this forever.

Letting go of his hand, Diana turns around, the tea all but forgotten as she looks into his eyes. It’s so strange, seeing him in modern clothing, the soft t-shirt stretched across his chest, the cardigan falling over his shoulders, and the dark pants she’d picked out just a little too long for his legs. “Steve, I—” Diana breaks off as he cups her face with one hand, a gesture so familiar it causes her chest to ache. “I missed you.”

She’s not quite sure when his mouth meets hers again, but it’s different to before, there’s a hunger to the kiss that she falls into, that she finds herself craving more of. Steve’s hands are tangled in her hair as they kiss, and Diana slides her hands under the cardigan, heat radiating from his body as she feels her way underneath his t-shirt, pressing her fingers into his skin as she pulls him closer.

Diana breaks from the kiss, rests her forehead against his, and smiles. “Do you—”

“Yes,” Steve interrupts. “ _Yes_.”

“You don’t know what I was going to ask,” Diana says with a laugh.

“Think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Steve responds, fingers stroking the base of her neck as he shifts from foot to foot. He’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t press his hips against her, and when Diana looks down, she can see how hard he is.

Looking back up, Diana raises an eyebrow at the flush spreading over his cheeks. Taking a step forward, she deliberately presses their hips together, watching with delight at the way Steve’s mouth drops open. “Do you still—”

“Yes,” Steve says quietly. “I still.”

Somehow they make it over to the couch, and as they stand there, Diana slides the cardigan over Steve’s shoulders, tugging at it until it drops to the floor. Steve tilts his head and smiles at her, his fingers sliding into the waistband of her skirt; Diana sucks in a breath at his touch, running her hands up his bare arms, she leans in and presses a kiss against his neck, smiling against his skin when he lets out a sigh. “Sit down,” she says quietly.

There’s a questioning look on Steve’s face, but he goes with it, and Diana’s struck by how comfortable this feels, how he’s not obeying her because she’s Wonder Woman, but because she’s Diana, because he trusts her, and that’s enough for him. She climbs on top of him, straddling his thighs, and the way he’s looking up at her means she can’t resist kissing him softly, tongue playing over the plushness of his bottom lip.

“God, Diana,” Steve breathes out. “You’re so—” he breaks off and shakes his head. “I love you. I _want_ you.”

Diana nods, reaching between them and running her fingertips over the bulge in his pants, a sly smile on her face when Steve’s hands automatically tighten their grip on her hips. “You have me,” she says, squeezing his cock lightly before letting go. His eyes follow her hands as she unbuttons her blouse and discarding it behind her, followed by her bra; Diana can’t help the impatience she’s feeling, and when Steve’s hands slide up her body, fingers of one hand grazing over a nipple, she bites her lip, every part of her wanting more.

Taking Steve’s hand, she guides it underneath her skirt, and it only takes a moment before he realises what it is she’s asking for. His touches are tentative at first, and Diana can’t stop herself from shifting her hips, silently demanding more from him, and Steve quickly acquiesces, pushing her underwear to the side and sliding his fingers against her in a steady rhythm that has her worked up in almost no time at all. “Inside,” she bites out, one hand gripping his shoulder. “Please.”

As soon as Steve slips two fingers inside her, Diana groans before curling a hand around Steve’s neck and drawing him in for a deep kiss. She’s never felt this needy before, every part of her wants to give herself over to Steve as he fucks her slowly with his fingers. When he twists his wrist so his thumb brushes against her clit, Diana gasps into his mouth, her entire body shuddering. “Steve, keep—” is all she manages to get out, the unrelenting sensation an instant flashback to the last time they were together, when he wanted to know everything that would bring her pleasure and set about doing it. His memory of that night is obviously intact, and Steve’s lightly mouthing at her jaw when she comes, fingers clamping down on his shoulder as she rides it out.

“Fuck,” Steve says as he moves his hand out from under her skirt, resting it on her leg, fingers tapping lightly against her skin. He finds her mouth and they fall into a sloppy kiss, less desperate than before, but still with an edge, and when Diana shifts, she can feel how hard he is. Steve’s kissing his way along her neck as Diana reaches down, pushes the waistband of his pants down, and wraps her hand around his cock, laughing when his teeth graze against her skin. “Diana, I can’t—”

She swipes her thumb over the head, watching the way Steve squeezes his eyes shut like he’s that close to coming just from her touch. Pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth, Diana stands up and slips out of her ruined underwear, followed by her skirt; Steve follows suit, stripping his t-shirt off and hitching himself up so he can kick his pants off. There’s a moment where Diana pauses, taking in the sight of Steve in front of her, the scars she remembers from the last time she saw him, the strength running through his body, a testament to a lifetime of hard work.

“Diana?” Steve tilts his head as he looks at her. “Are you—”

“I missed you,” she says as she straddles him, his cock brushing against her inner thighs. “Every day.”

His hands cup her face, and she goes willingly as he pulls her down into a kiss that makes her chest settle, finally letting herself believe that nothing’s going to backfire on her if she lets herself have this.

When they part, Steve reaches for her hand, tangling their fingers together as he holds his cock with his other hand. Diana shifts until he’s right there against her, she locks eyes with him and smiles when he squeezes her hand; she doesn’t look away as she sinks down, watching Steve’s mouth fall open and licking his reddened lips as she gets fully seated. She takes in a breath before kissing him, rolling her hips just to hear him groan into her mouth; the fullness of him inside her again after so many years is overwhelming, and Diana keeps kissing him, needing to be connected to him in every way she possibly can be.

Steve’s hands are on her hips, and she can feel his desperation in his grip, how much he wants her to move, to create some friction between them, and she rises up slightly before falling back down, relishing in the way Steve lets out a heartfelt sigh. Resting her hands on Steve’s shoulders, she lets herself experience every single emotion flowing through her as she rides him slowly. Diana can’t stop the soft smile on her face as she moves, and she laughs when Steve returns the smile, the lightness feeling completely at odds with the need for completion that both of them are feeling.

“I don’t—God—I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Steve manages to say quietly, ducking his head and pressing light kisses against her breasts, hands running all over her skin.

“So don’t,” Diana says, her hands threading through his hair as she rolls her hips, gasping out a breath when Steve’s fingers find their way to her clit again. “I won’t either.”

Steve’s breath is hot against her neck as they move, his hand working in tandem with Diana riding him, and Diana can feel her thighs tightening the more he touches her, the closer she gets. She’s still sensitive from her last orgasm and it only takes another swipe from his fingers before she’s coming, crying out and holding onto him as tightly as she dares. Steve holds her through it, kissing her skin until she stops shivering.

“Are you—” she cuts him off with a nod and a kiss, and starts to move, Steve using what leverage he has to push up into her. It’s almost too much, but she wants this, it feels _real_ in a way she’s missed; all her nerve endings are sparking and she just wants him to come, wants to feel it, wants this to be part of her life again.

The grip Steve has on her hips is tightening, his breath uneven, and she kisses him softly. “Steve,” she whispers against his mouth, and that’s all it takes for him to let out a low groan as he comes, holding Diana in place as he spills inside her.

Their mouths move in a facsimile of a kiss, exchanging breaths more than anything else, and Diana doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to feel him pull out of her, doesn’t want this to end. She knows, intellectually, that moving off him won’t end this, that she’ll use all her strength and will to keep him in her life now that he’s back, but there’s a weight of raw emotion in her chest that she can’t ignore.

“I’m real,” Steve says, pressing a firm kiss against her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“How did you know I—”

“Because I didn’t believe I was real either,” he says, a sheen in his eyes when she looks at him, and Diana knows that same sheen is reflected in her eyes. “We can have this.”

“Can we?”

“You saved the world, Diana,” Steve says. “If you can do that, then—”

“The world doesn’t work this way.”

“Maybe it does, just this once.”

Diana’s still scared to believe it, there’s too many ways that people returning from the dead can go wrong, but she trusted Steve once before all those years ago, despite barely knowing him, and she wants to trust this, trust that the universe wouldn’t give her a gift like this and then rip it away. “Okay,” she says, thinking back to the first time she saw his face, how, because of him, she came to understand how flawed and beautiful mankind could be. How that’s carried her through the decades she’s spent without him. “Maybe this once.”


End file.
